In the Stillness(100)

Ryker tosses his shirt to the floor and gives me that heart-melting, kiss-me-the-second-you-meet-me smile as he leans down toward my mouth.

“This.”





The End





While Natalie and Ryker are fictional characters, their struggles are not. If you, or someone you know, are in crisis, whether or not they are considering suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. 1-800-273-TALK (8255). For veterans, press 1.





5% of the proceeds of this e-book are being donated to The New England Center for Homeless Veterans.





Read on for an exclusive look at “The Last Hour”, a contemporary fiction novel by Charles Sheehan-Miles set to be released May 15, 2013





CHAPTER TWELVE

Eight Months Ago: New York





Tell the Army I said hi! (Carrie)

The plane touched the ground with a bump and screech of tires, and I felt the force of the sudden deceleration as the engines reversed. I closed my book as we taxied across the airport. For the first time since I’d left my parents’ townhouse that morning, I felt tension, just a slight twist in my stomach. I was excited to see Ray, but nervous too. He’d sounded so stressed when we spoke on the phone last night. Stressed and exhausted. He’d spent another day being questioned by the Army. It was beyond excessive. How many different ways could he tell the same story?

I wanted badly by the end of that phone call to hug him so tightly that all of the tension would just drain out. And that’s exactly what I was going to do the moment I met him at the security gate.

I tensed in my seat, watching out the window as the plane inched toward the gate. Now that we were moving slowly, I pulled my bag out from under the seat and put away my book, then took out my phone. The flight had been smooth, and I’d relaxed and read a book since the eight a.m. departure from San Francisco. I was tired, but not so much I wouldn’t be fine making it through the day and evening.

Finally. The plane shut down, the engines slowing to a stop, and I heard the clicks and thumps as the gate connected. I switched on my phone. At least I’d be off the plane quickly, my frequent flyer miles let me upgrade to business class, so I was on the second row of the plane.

My phone chirped with an incoming text message, and the screen lit up.

Damn it. The preview on the screen said, “I’m so sorry.”

I unlocked the phone and flipped to the messages.

The Army and FBI just showed up here AGAIN with more questions. I don’t know how long this is going to take.

The next message read: It’s been two hours. I’ll keep you updated.

And two more. The first said: Shit. There’s no way I’m going to make it to the airport in time. Take a cab to Glen Cove, and I’ll pay.

Finally: I’m so sorry.

I sighed. Poor Ray. They were putting him through the wringer. The thing was, they hadn’t called him in. They hadn’t called him up and said, “We’ll be there tomorrow at 11.” Instead, they just randomly showed up. It was as if they thought he was lying and were trying to catch him on inconsistencies. I couldn’t even imagine the stress he was under.

Once I got clear of the gate, I called Ray.

It rang four times, then he answered.

“Hey,” he said. “Carrie, I am so sorry. I feel awful.”

“Stop,” I replied. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, it was out of your control. I’m going to rent a car, just text me your address?”

“You sure? Wouldn’t it be cheaper to take a cab?”

“Yeah, but this way we’ll have wheels for the whole visit. You did say you don’t have a car right now?”

“True. How about we split it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Ray, I get this ridiculously stupid allowance from my father. Let me use it. Besides, you bought the tickets to the show tonight, and I know that couldn’t have been cheap.”

“But … all right, fine.”

“Send me the text, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell the Army I said hi!” I have no idea what possessed me to say that.

He chuckled. “Cute. At the rate we’re going, you may get a chance to tell them yourself.”

So I got my luggage, then made my way to the Hertz counter and flashed my membership card, which usually catches their attention very quickly, and ten minutes later I was programming Ray’s address into the GPS. It estimated 39 minutes. I got on the road. Traffic was heavy though, and somehow I doubted the time estimate.

An hour later I pulled to a stop in front of a large apartment building in Glen Cove. I leaned out and looked up at the building. It was old, the stones painted with a light blue which was peeling off here and there. It was a nice building, and looked to have been built to last, but it wasn’t in the best repair. The lawn was covered in snow, and someone had done a not very good job shoveling the sidewalk. I got out of the car, took my bag out of the trunk and carefully made my way up the walk, then studied the directory next to the front door. I found “Sherman” in the directory and hit the button.

Just a moment later the buzzer went off, and I headed inside.

Ray’s apartment—or his parents’ rather—was on the eighth floor. The inside of the building reinforced my first impression. It was a nice building, but was suffering from lack of repair. Ray had told me his parents’ story—they’d been not quite wealthy, but firmly middle class. High paying jobs with lots of debt, and when the jobs vanished, so did their lives. Sometimes, when I heard stories like that, I felt guilty. I took my parents’ wealth for granted sometimes. My father inherited his money, and it allowed us things that few people had, not the least of which was security that our homes wouldn’t vanish out from under us due to a job change or because someone got sick.